I need him
by heagon83
Summary: His eyes meet mine for the first time in a long time and I realize that I don't know how to act around him now; maybe not just now, maybe ever. From the day he saved me with the bread until that reaping day, we only ever shared awkward glances and painful silence. Even now that there is a lifetime between us I am still utterly lost around him, and at this moment…I want to be found.


_I don't deserve you_

_By Plumb_

_You're the first face that I see  
And the last thing I think about  
You're the reason that I'm alive  
You're what I can't live without  
And never give up  
When I'm falling apart  
Your arms are always open wide  
And You're quick to forgive  
When I make a mistake  
You love me in the blink of an eye  
I don't deserve Your love  
But you give it to me anyway  
Can't get enough  
You're everything I need  
And when I walk away  
Take off running and come right after me  
It's what You do  
And I don't deserve You  
You're the light inside my eyes  
Give me a reason to keep trying  
Give me more than I could dream  
And You bring me to my knees  
Your heart is gold and how am I the one  
That You've chosen to love  
I still can't believe that You're right next to me  
After all that I've done  
I don't deserve Your love  
But you give it to me anyway  
Can't get enough  
You're everything I need  
And when I walk away  
Take off running and come right after me  
It's what You do  
And I don't deserve You  
You're the first face that I see  
And the last thing I think about  
You're the reason that I'm alive  
You're what i can't live without  
_

_In the morning, he sits stoically as I clean the cuts, but digging the thorn from his paw brings on a round of those kitten mews. We both end up crying again, only this time we comfort each other. On the strength of this, I open the letter Haymitch gave me from my mother, dial the phone number, and weep with her as well. Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup._

_ -Mockingjay Chapter 27_

Breakfast is silent. I don't make eye contact with Peeta, and he doesn't search for my gaze. He doesn't linger after the meal. He cleans his plate at the sink despite Greasy Sae's protests, and he leaves wordlessly. Sae leaves shortly after him, mentioning that she will bring lunch by later. When they are gone I go to the phone and dial Dr. Aurelius. He is pleased to hear from me and talks for about a 1/2 an hour. I find myself only half listening and I respond to his questions with curt, one-word answers. At the end of our conversation I agree to call him tomorrow. I then find my seat in front of the fire and wait for Greasy Sae to bring lunch. I fall asleep there and am awoken by my own screams. I long for a dreamless sleep and strong arms wrapped around me protecting me from my nightmares.

Sae arrives with lunch alone.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask.

"Not Sure, I knocked on his door…no answer" she replies.

"Where is he?" I ponder. Minimally concerned I push the question from my mind. She leaves the stew on the table and tells me she will return in the morning. I don't eat, and I don't move from my reserved spot in front of the fire.

The next morning Peeta arrives once again with Sae, fresh bread in hand. We resume our silent waltz from the morning before.

We dance like this for weeks. Fresh bread, mute breakfast, gaze-less encounters.

Dr. Aurelius wants me to go hunting. I haven't been since the morning of the Primroses and I had to ride home in the dead people's cart. I don't want to think about the dead people's cart so I don't go into the woods.

One morning, when Peeta arrives for breakfast, he puts a basket on the table. It's covered with a cloth and I can't see what is inside. Sensing my curiosity he says,

"Its cheese buns" with a half-smile.

"They're your favorite."

I realize, as I stare at my porridge that my mouth is agape, and I don't know if it is because this is the first time he has spoken to me since he planted Prim's flowers or because he remembered that they are my favorite.

I skip my phone call with Dr. Aurelius in favor of the woods. I figure he would forgive the missed appointment considering how good he thinks the woods are for me. I shoot three squirrels and a rabbit. I know Sae will be so happy to get fresh game. Instead of taking my normal route back home, I find myself walking to the wild strawberry patch. I pick as many strawberries as I can carry in my upturned shirt and make my way back to Victor's Village. I stop at Peeta's door and pile the strawberries up on his front porch. I knock loudly then turn and make my way home.

I clean the game hurriedly so that I can have it done to give to Greasy Sae before she stops by with lunch. When she arrives, I can't tell if she is happier that I got her the meat, or that I actually left the house. Either way, a smile spreads across her weathered face and that makes me feel a twinge of happiness.

After lunch I call Dr. Aurelius and after a brief apology and explanation about my hunting tryst this morning we resume our discontinued session from the day before. He keeps telling me that in order to heal I need to keep reminding myself of the good memories I have of my lost loved ones. Their kind, generous acts, and the good they accomplished in their lives.

"How can I do that?" I wonder out loud.

"Write it down." He suggests, and then I remember The Plant Book.

I hang up with the Doctor abruptly and go to the study where the remnants of my life at 13 reside. I find The Plant Book instantly and leave the room just as suddenly before the terrible memories of my conversation with Snow in that room invade my thoughts.

I spend hours looking over the entries inside. I remember the things my father told me about which roots or berries could feed us. I think about my mother and how knowledgeable she was when it came to which leaves could be brewed into teas that would cure a myriad of illnesses. My mind finds Rue and how she knew which leaves in the arena would sooth my tracker jacker stings…..and just like that my mind drifts to Peeta, the boy with the bread, who could paint life into an empty page. I remember his look of intense concentration as he created a life-like rendering the dandelion green on the page before me. I feel the edges of his drawing and fall asleep clutching the page.

"You brought me strawberries yesterday, Real or not real?" Peeta asked over breakfast.

"Real." I reply, carefully not meeting my eyes to his.

"I found them while I was hunting in the woods." I lie. He didn't have to know that I searched them out.

"Thank You, Katniss." His eyes meet mine for the first time in a long time and I realize that I don't know how to act around him now; maybe not just now, maybe ever. From the day he saved me with the bread until that reaping day, we only ever shared awkward glances and painful silence. Even now that there is a lifetime between us I am still utterly lost around him, and at this moment…I want to be found.

"You can come over for lunch." I blurt out.

After breakfast, I hunt, and then I call Dr. Aurelius. He agrees to send me some materials from the capitol after he's heard the plan for my project. Peeta comes over for lunch, and he brings a fresh strawberry pie.

Our routine continues for several weeks. Our breakfasts evolve and they are no longer filled with only the sound of silverware crashing against porcelain, but actual conversation between Peeta and I. Our lunches actually grow to contain a smile and occasional veiled laughter. When Dr. Aurelius' package arrives for me in late summer, I'm excited to tell Peeta about my idea for The Memory Book.

"Will you do the illustrations for me?" I ask, sitting across from him at my kitchen table. He fingers the supplies I've spread out in front of him, but remains silent for too long.

"If I do this," he says, with a pregnant pause, "I do this with you. It can't be just your project that I am helping you with. We do it together….our project."

"Ok," I say, without hesitation.

"And, we should ask Haymitch to be a part of it too."

"ughhhhhh." I groan, distaste heavy on my lips. "I haven't even seen him for months. Is he even coherent?"

"Yes." He replies stoically. "I take him bread every day, and he's struggling….just like us."

We begin The Memory Book with Rue. I talk about her innocence and kindness.

"She liked gooseling legs and she could fly through the trees." I write, carefully and as neatly as I can.

"She was your shadow," Peeta comments.

He takes his time drawing her intricate curls and sweet disposition. I don't know how he remembers the details of her so well. I watch him. His forearm muscles are taut as he presses hard with the charcoal. His eyelashes as they flutter capture my attention for a long time. The golden strands shade his blue eyes from me, and I hope he doesn't catch me staring.

Slowly, our days morph into a new normal. A routine forms and no one moves to break it.

Breakfast.

Hunting.

Dr. Aurelius.

Lunch.

Memory book.

And with our routine Peeta readily slid back into my life, like he was never gone. It was gradual and unexpected, and it petrified me. Not because he had been hijacked, and I was scared for my life, but because he became something I didn't want to want. Prim was dead, and my wanting to be happy with him felt like a slap in the face to her. I didn't deserve any sort of happiness that she will never get a chance to have. This was my purgatory.

So, I resist him.

Haymitch finally agrees to join in on The Memory Book. His first entry is Maysilee Donner. Peeta draws her beautifully. She looks so much like Madge.

The leaves fall.

I Hunt.

Peeta Bakes.

Haymitch Drinks.

We begin Prim's page just as the first snow begins to fall. We sit in the living room in front of the fireplace and I try to think of what to put on the page that would do well to memorialize my sister; my pure, kind-hearted Prim. I think about her love for Buttercup and Lady and how terrific a healer she would have made one day, and then a dam breaks inside me.

I begin to openly sob, heaving exhaustedly. Peeta doesn't waste a moment. He pulls me into his strong arms and holds me. After a while, I am too weak to cry, and my tears have run dry anyway, but he doesn't let me go. He hasn't touched me since he saved me from the nightlock after I shot Coin, which seems like a lifetime ago. We don't speak. He gently rubs circles on my back as he holds me. His touch is familiar, but markedly different. It is fragile, but sturdy at the same time, and not quite like the Peeta from the games. There was something brand new in his embrace, but his eyes, in that moment, were the same as they had always been when he loved me, and I couldn't ignore it.

"Will you stay with me?" I whisper.

"Always" he replies.

And he does.

From that night on Peeta stays. He holds me, protecting me from nightmares, and consoling me through my tears.

We continue this way for months. Eventually, Greasy Sae stops bringing meals. I bring her game from my hunts, and she is ever grateful. Haymitch raises geese. He says that they keep him busy when he runs out of white liquor while he waits for the Capitol train to arrive with a fresh supply. Always, the mentor, it seems that he spent far too long mentoring, and now he finds comfort in caring for these beings. Our Memory Book grows. Peeta adds his brothers, his dad, and even The Witch.

One day in early spring, Haymitch, fresh from the train station, brings us a letter from District 4. Inside is a small picture…Annie and Finnick's newborn son. I knew she was pregnant my mother had mentioned it months ago on the phone, but it didn't become real until I saw the photograph. He is the spitting image of his father. My heart aches, for Annie, for him, for us. I couldn't protect him. He was my friend and my ally. Peeta studies the picture for a while then decides its fate.

"This should go in the book!"

We gather the book and supplies after dinner and resume our positions in front of the fire. Peeta turns to Finnick's page where I study the careful drawing he's drawn of our dear friend. Sea-green eyes and golden hair, with that precocious grin he always wore. I remember the day I met Finnick. He offered me a sugar cube.

"What a strange interaction." I thought of our first conversation.

"You and I, when we see something sweet, we better grab it." I remember his words to me, and suddenly it occurs to me that he wasn't talking about sugar cubes at all; his message to me was clear, it only took me a year and a half to get there. He was telling me to grab the good in my life and taste it; hold onto it while I still had it, and while it was still good. He could read me so well, even then. He was urging me to revel in what my life was right now, and he was right.

I look at Peeta, who is carefully gluing the tiny picture to the page and writing the child's name and birthdate underneath it, and my mind goes to another time in the not so distant past. On a beach, I was ready to die for him. I needed him then, and I need him so much more now.

"I need you." I say, breaking the silence as he works.

He looks up and before he can respond I press my lips softly against his. It's the first time our lips have met since his flashback in The Capitol, and for a moment he doesn't respond, and I'm sure I've made a grave error. I'm afraid that he doesn't want this at all, and maybe I'm even bringing on an episode, so I pull away, but his lips chase mine. They are hungry and gentle, but sill rough and they carry the weight of forever. We kiss by the fire until our lips are swollen, then we retreat to my bedroom and he holds me close while I drift into a dream-less sleep.

Kisses become a part of our lives. Tiny unexpected kisses after breakfast, gentle soothing kisses in front of the fire, or deep wanting kisses at bedtime, they are perfect and pure, and for the first time, they are just between us. I am satisfied, and this exchange is enough for me….until it's not.

I'm in a strange concrete room. I can hear Peeta's tortured screams. He's calling for me and I can't reach him. Suddenly, I'm on fire and screaming. I wake up to Peeta calling me gently from my nightmare.

"I couldn't save you, I tried and they lit me on fire. No matter what I did I couldn't get to you…you were gone." I cry.

"It's ok, it's ok, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere" he sweetly whispers, stroking my hair.

I look at him frantically searching his face to make sure he's hear, he's real, and he's safe. I find his worried eyes staring back into mine. Deep pools of blue so full of adoration for me, my heart tightens as I stare into his eyes. This boy who spent every minute of the past year struggling to reconstruct the chamber in his mind that still held his love for me; The world around me melts away and I need to kiss him, to feel that he's really here with me, and the sudden craving for his full, soft lips hits me like an arrow through the heart.

I kiss him hungrily. It feels like the cave, life the beach, but somehow it's exponentially more than that. It's a new sensation and I don't find it mingled with the dread that has clouded my entire life, and I'm excited by it. His lips feel different now, I was positive I knew them by heart, but I have never felt them trying to devour me, and it is intoxicating. The heat from the beach begins to grow in my center again. As it builds I find that my hands are no longer satisfied with their perch on the smooth sheets. I need to touch him. I reach my hand under his night shirt and it finds purchase on his abdomen. The tiny hairs leading from his belly button to the inside of his pajamas send electricity down my spine and I know I won't be able to hide my excitement. He shutters under my touch and his kisses begin grazing down my jaw to my collar bone. I begin to melt at this new sensation and I move closer to him. I can't seem to get close enough and my hips begin undulating towards him like they have a mind all their own. At this he pulls away from me and looks at me, as if asking for permission, or validation. I remove my night shirt to give him all the permission he needs. He stares at me in the moonlight with the same concentration he gives to his careful renditions in the Memory Book, finally, he touches me. His warm fingers create a feeling that I am sure will spill me over the edge of ecstasy.

He explores every inch of me, first with his hands, trailing down my abdomen teasing the elastic of my underwear. I nod to him, signaling its ok to remove the thin cotton between us. His fingers are feather light, and they send electric chills up and down my spine. Then he explores me with his mouth. He takes his time lingering over each breast, making the fire inside me threaten to erupt. He trails kisses down my abdomen and down each thigh, all the way down to my toes. My mouth craves him again, so I sit up and crash my mouth onto his, savoring the taste of his bottom lip and letting my tongue dance along his. I pull his shirt up, only separating our tongues long enough to slip it over his head, and I begin to kiss my way down his torso. I caress his burn scars with my tongue, enjoying their tight texture. He touches my cheek, a request to bring my mouth to his, I weave my fingers through his thick blond waves and he meets my gaze. It is then that I know that I love him, because his hair is wild and his cheeks are flushed, but he is stunning. I love him because he looks at me with such devotion that despite my scars, internal and external, I feel perfect and safe here in his arms. I love him because he protects me and I protect him, and I know that he loves me just as much.

With this realization I kiss him deeply, my hands still engulfed in the hair at the nape of his neck. Then I make my way down to his pajamas and slowly remove them. I move to strip him of his underwear and he lifts his hips allowing me to do so. I am intrigued and excited by his member. I begin to stroke it, and watch Peeta's face contort in ecstasy.

My own desire becomes too much and I shimmy up Peeta's legs, straddling him. The proximity of our moist centers brings on a feeling of anticipation that I did not know I was capable of. I can feel the build of something special and I lower my hips to claim it. I reach for him, gently aligning him with my entrance and sink onto him without preamble. He groans deliciously and I begin to roll my hips slowly, pushing past the burn as he fills me up. It's is a good burn, and it ebbs quickly. Peeta gives a smooth upward thrust, burying himself into me and a moan escapes my lips. I lean forward onto him, and his fingers thread in my hair. I roll my hips again and again until I feel threads of pleasure slide down my legs, lifting me, carrying me, towards a breaking point. I cry out his name like candy on my lips.

With that he flips us over in one quick motion. He lays over me and at this moment, we are closer than any two people could be. With my naked skin etching itself into every inch of his. Moans of pleasure emanate from my mouth at the change of angle as he thrusts slowly in and out. His grunts rent the thick air of my bedroom, despite the open window. Nothing exists outside of this place; the only thing that matters is that I am inescapably in love with this boy.

I feel a flash of heat, then another, and another. As he thrusts into me I cannot stop the noise rising in my throat from escaping as stars exploded behind my eyes and I dissolve into him. His explosion follows mine. His thrusts come harder and faster until I feel his muscles tense and his pleasured gasp fills the air.

He doesn't withdrawal immediately. He holds me, careful not to put all he weight on me. A satisfied sigh escapes my lips. He made love the way he kissed; slow and deep, sometimes crushing and rough, but always impassioned, always connected, and never half-hearted.

As we lay here, the boy with the bread and I, I know, and I have probably known for a while that this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I tell him, "Real."


End file.
